


Prayers

by foxthefanboi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Sam Winchester and Faith, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxthefanboi/pseuds/foxthefanboi
Summary: Despite his family’s beliefs, Sam has always been religious.
Kudos: 11





	Prayers

Sam is eight.

He’s walking home from school, back to the motel that Dad had dropped him and Dean off at. He passes by that church again, and hesitates, like he has every day for the past two weeks.

 _Don’t be dumb, Sam. God’s not real._ Dean had told him that when he’d asked last year, but Sam could feel that it wasn’t true. 

With everything they were going through, there had to be some point to it all. There had to be something good watching out for them as they fought a war against all the evil in the world.

He looks in the direction of home. Dean’s still got another hour left at his middle school, and Dad’s still out hunting. No one will miss Sam if he stops in, just to see what the church is like.

He approaches the front door of the church, feeling a pull towards it but also a feeling of wrongness, like he shouldn’t be here. Like he’s not pure enough to enter.

He’s about to turn back and leave when the door opens. The elderly couple leaving smiles at him and holds the door open, and it’s the invitation Sam was looking for. He gives the couple a small smile and slips inside.

He feels soothed as soon as the door shuts behind him. The rows of pews, the cross and altar at the front of the church, the religious art on the walls. There are a couple of people sitting in the pews, heads bowed in prayer, and a priest is taking care of some business up front. Sam feels calm, more calm than he’s felt in weeks.

He sits down in the last row. He’s never done this before, has no idea what to do besides what he’s seen in movies and read in books. He glances at the other occupants of the church and follows their lead, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

What now?

 _Hi, God,_ he thinks. Nothing. Sam doesn’t feel anything, no divine presence, no connection, no sense that anyone is listening. Why would God listen to him, Sam Winchester, anyway? He’s the last person on earth worthy of being heard.

But it’s about faith. He knows that. He takes a deep breath and keeps going. _I don’t know if you’re listening, but… I want you to know that I believe in you, even if my brother says you aren’t real. I hope you can keep Dad safe. And I hope that Mom is happy up there in heaven with you._

He can’t think of anything else to say. Not this time. _Amen_ , he thinks. He opens his eyes and stands up, giving one last glance around the church before leaving.

As he steps outside into the crisp fall air, he realizes he does feel a slight burden lifted. He feels a little bit less alone. He feels a little bit more protected. And he knows, with certainty, that there is a higher power out there.

* * *

Sam is fifteen.

He’s been praying every night since his first visit to that church. Sometimes he prays in church or kneeling next to his bed, but usually they’re informal prayers, sent from the backseat of the Impala in the middle of the night, or while staring up at the stars just outside the motel room Dean and Dad are in. He asks for protection or forgiveness or, usually, just for some sense of peace and comfort.

Tonight he prays that Amy will be okay. He prays that the future monsters his family will kill will actually deserve it. He prays that he and his family won’t go so far that it will put them beyond the reach of redemption.

* * *

Sam is twenty-one.

He’s been keeping up with the weird news, the kind only hunters look at. There’s been demon signs all over the midwest, and Sam’s not sure if Dad and Dean are there, but he knows that’s exactly the type of trouble they’re drawn to.

Tonight he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, head down.

“Hi, God.” He pauses like he always does, like he’s waiting for a response, but he knows he won’t get one. “Thank you, for everything. For Stanford and Jess and my friends and a life of my own. And… I don’t know if I have a right to ask, now that I’ve left them behind, but please protect Dad and Dean. Keep them safe.” He sniffs. “Amen.”

A shorter prayer than usual. He doesn’t know what else to say. But he knows God will understand.

* * *

Sam is thirty.

He’s tired, and his head is spinning, and every part of him hurts. He kneels in the confessional in the abandoned church, Crowley chained to a chair just a few feet away.

“Okay, um…” He clears his throat. “If anybody’s listening, here goes.”

* * *

Sam is thirty-seven.

He’s standing outside the church in Lebanon, a solid brick building with a steeple and stained glass windows. He walks in and smiles at the familiar sense of tranquility that every church has. The pastor walks by and asks if he needs any help, and Sam shakes his head. He’s just here to pray.

He sits down and closes his eyes. It’s been a long time since he’s prayed, really prayed, like he used to. It’s been a long time since he believed God cared.

“Hi, Jack,” he says softly. Tears prickle at the back of his eyes. “Me and Dean… We’re doing okay. It’s nice, knowing we’re free. But we miss you.” He opens his eyes and looks up. “I know you’re all-powerful now, but take care of yourself, okay?” A tear slips from his eye and he sniffs and wipes it away quickly. He thinks about what Jack said, about being in every drop of rain, every speck of dust. Jack’s here, now, all around him. The old God might not have cared, but Sam knows Jack is listening.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts and constructive criticism welcome :)


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